


Budding

by Joie de Combat (minorvariation), unbeldi



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: (sort of), (they're dignitaries so they've probably met but), F/M, First Meetings, Pre-Relationship, Silver Millennium Era, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 23:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20397646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minorvariation/pseuds/Joie%20de%20Combat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbeldi/pseuds/unbeldi
Summary: On the night of a ball thrown for Princess Serenity, Nephrite escapes into the garden for some time alone. Princess Jupiter has the same idea.SilMil Mako/Neph, fluffy and angst-free. Mostly.





	Budding

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, hands up if the world desperately needs more SilMil content. What am I supposed to do, write it myself? :|
> 
> Thanks so much to my co-writer minorvariation. <3 She is responsible for Jupiter here, and she is the best ever.

Over a decade as one of Endymion's Shitennou, a lifetime as a noble before that, and Nephrite still hasn't learned to suffer parties. Or balls. Or feasts. Or anything of the sort. Force him out of his observatory and one may as well strip his personality from him entirely. 

Endymion's teased him for it before. How different is the Nephrite the kingdom sees -- stoic, drawn off to a corner somewhere, hand clutched around an untouched drink -- from the Nephrite he and his friends know. The Nephrite who can talk for hours, if no one sees fit to interrupt him. The Nephrite who, in his way, has a wit to rival Zoisite's, and a way with footwork that would net him half the girls in North America, if he ever learned to use it outside his weekly swordsmanship drills.

He could have the world, Endymion said, if only he didn't disappear at these things.

Utter foolishness. 

A cape twirls at the edge of the golden ballroom, a flurry of auburn and grey that most won't see. His sense of duty pains him for a moment -- surely the king expects him to remain and entertain their Millennian guests -- but the feast and opening niceties have already passed, and he's certain every foreign eye that needed to see him already has.

Zoisite is clever enough to cover for his absence if it's noticed. Kunzite has a deathgrip on security, as he always does, and the girls have Jadeite if they are in desperate need of a dance. There's no place for him here.

Secretly, or maybe not so secretly, he's glad for it.

Nephrite escapes to the gardens but a few minutes later, and for the first time in hours, he feels like he can breathe.

It's a beautiful night. Clear, not a single star obscured, the moonlight streaming silver in the waters of the garden. Even in his armor, he's yet to overheat or sweat, cooled by a breeze rising from the west. Why they choose to have a ball in that stifling palace instead of on the lawn, he'll never know.

Truthfully, he doesn't know if any of the Lunar delegation have seen the gardens at all; he's never had the honor of setting foot on the Moon, but from the tales he's heard, they manicure the flowers in their great sea craters down to the petal, cultivated from birth for perfection, a mosaic of colors and smells the people of Earth have yet to dream of. The palace's bushes and marble planters must seem primitive in comparison, a patch of barely tended weeds, and maybe that is why his noble masters want to fete the Lunarians in an overdecorated hall instead.

Still, if he had to choose, could he bear to sacrifice the wild, untamed, mortal beauty of the Earth for all the cold perfection the Moon could --

"It seems we've had the same idea."

Nephrite startles out of his thoughts in an instant, whirling on his heel. Behind him, still half-cloaked in darkness, the princess of Jupiter regards him with smiling emerald eyes.

There's not a moment's rest tonight, is there? Stars almighty. But he is nothing if not practiced at putting on a facade. 

That spark of surprise and the looseness of his bearing immediately disappear. Soon, it is Nephrite of the Golden Kingdom that stands before her. Nephrite, the somewhat frazzled, introverted man musing to himself in a garden, has fled into the night, as he so often does.

"Princess Jupiter," he says, one hand on his heart, sinking to the appropriate bow for her rank. He tries desperately not to think of how, without supervision, this comes horrifyingly close to fraternization. "Please excuse my absence. I'll be returning to the festivities soon, I only needed a moment to --"

\-- 'clear my head' sounds astonishingly informal, he should say something else instead, but he's already started the sentence like that -- is that really worth breaking rank over -- for stars' sake,  _ say _ something --

"-- air." 

Yes. A moment to air.  _ Brilliant as always, Nephrite. And they wonder why you're not much for parties. _

But, even as he berates himself, Jupiter sweeps into an answering curtsy that has more fluid grace to it than it does strict formality. 

"Please," she says as she straightens, a small and slightly lopsided smile curving her lips, "don't trouble yourself. I didn't come out here to scold you for slipping away. If anything," she adds, "I'm fairly sure you'd have more right to scold me for meandering out here unescorted."

That's...come to think of it, that is true, in a strict sense. Superior or not, benevolent or not, the Lunarians are foreign powers to the Golden Kingdom. One of their number wandering the halls of the palace without an escort is some kind of diplomatic breach, though perhaps the knowledge that their own  _ princess _ is doing just that, and regularly, has inured him to the shock of it.

Absently one of Jupiter's hands smooths over the cascade of her skirt. "...If I'm intruding," she says, "I can leave you to your thoughts. I only wanted a little air, myself." Her eyes flick briefly away from him, skimming over the starlit greenery. "And perhaps to see the garden."

Nephrite straightens.

"As it happens, I have more time with my thoughts than anyone needs," he says, perhaps a bit too personally -- but they are co-conspirators, are they not? And there's no one around to hear, besides. "I can spare them a few minutes for conversation." 

His mouth ticks up in a slight, wry grin. "Not that you'd know it from how I act in there. I suppose I've yet to do my dancing for tonight; pardon me for not asking you yet, you've probably guessed that parties like this aren't my strength. I trust Zoisite and Jadeite have kept you well entertained?"

It's only then that he notices her eyes have turned to the gardens. He barely holds in a sigh -- it's in bad taste to defend something so paltry to one of the most cultured people in the solar system, but he has no choice. This garden is the fruit of his homeland, its spirit. Small and fragile though it is.

"It must seem like nothing to you, compared to what there is on the moon," he says, quieter, "but I beg you to look for its beauty, if you can."

Jupiter quirks an eyebrow.

"You do your world too little credit," she answers gently. "Yes, it's true that there is great beauty on the moon, but... it's a deliberate sort of beauty. Planned and sculpted."

A soft breeze moves over the garden, rustling a bit in the leaves and ruffling Jupiter's hair around her face. The hand that was smoothing over her skirt a moment ago lifts, not quite touching the plants, just letting the breath of wind play over her fingertips. "This wild green world of yours... in a way, it's more like what I come from."

The wind whistles between them as she speaks, her fingers hovering over a delicate cluster of flowers, not touching them -- and a curious feeling comes over Nephrite. It's quiet, a whisper in his heart that might have been ignored were his attention elsewhere. But he is more in tune with himself and the world here in the peace of the garden, and he can't help but feel that time has slowed down for a moment. That his mind is taking this image before him and engraving it into memory, as small and insignificant as it seems.

He looks on for but a second before giving his head a shake and turning his eyes to the stars. What a strange man he is, to think something like that.

"Where you come from," he repeats. His eyes find the planet Jupiter instinctively, glimmering brighter than its fellows in the night sky. "It's funny. I look upon your homeworld every night, and yet I know nothing at all about it."

That's -- no, that's not true, and he shouldn't make himself look stupid in front of the princess. 

Hastily, he adds, "Well, of course not  _ nothing. _ I could tell you everything about what it means for your world to be trine with Venus, or what we can expect for the next year on Earth when Jupiter falls in Cancer. I know your ambassadors, your diplomats, your gross domestic product, the basics of your culture, from what they show to us on Earth."

Here, he looks back down at the flowers, the wild beauties that Princess Jupiter likens to those of her home. 

"But it never occurred to me that your world would have flowers like ours. I never thought a Jovian could come to Earth and see something even remotely familiar. You know," he gives a soft chuckle, "some of the less educated of our subjects think of your race as gods."

A soft, surprised laugh bubbles up in Jupiter's throat. 

"Gods?" she repeats, and shakes her head. "No. Although there are some in the Silver Millennium who would like to think themselves gods in comparison to your people." The breath goes out of her in a quiet sigh.

He shrugs, absentmindedly reaching out to one of the pink roses on the bush, running over one of its petals with his hand. Beautiful -- but they will be out of season soon. This one is already going slightly slack with age. The gardeners will no doubt prune them in the next week.

"I suppose we're all ignorant, in our way," he muses.

"Yes. I suppose we are." As Nephrite did moments before, she lifts her head to look to the night sky, strewn as it is with myriad glittering lights. 

"We're so far from my planet," she muses. "From here, you can scarcely pick it out. I can feel it, wherever I am, but I'm a little ashamed to admit I couldn't point to it amidst the stars." A beat, and then the princess looks toward Nephrite again, eyes bright with self-deprecating humor. "Please don't tell anyone I said that," she says with a quiet laugh. "How shameful would it be?"

Nephrite drops his hand from the rose when the princess starts speaking of her homeworld again, stepping back from the planter and lifting his head once more -- this time to look at her, not at the sky.

"Yes," he says, a thoughtful tinge to his voice, "of all the Senshi, I suppose you're the furthest from your home. Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto...they're all so far that I don't believe we've ever seen as much as an envoy from them on Earth, yet here you are. Only a slight bit closer than the outer planets, and still made to live with us," he says. "With the Moon."

Privately, he can't help but feel it is unfair, to keep a princess away from her world so completely, but it would be the height of disrespect to say so. Not to mention hypocrisy -- is he not far from his own home, in service to a royal? Granted, 'far' by Earth standards and 'far' by Millennian standards are different by orders of magnitude, but the concept is the same. He shouldn't criticize her sacred duty, for what duty is without sacrifice?

Still, there's something he can give her.

"There," Nephrite says, lifting his hand to the familiar star of Jupiter, pointing it out to her. Princess Jupiter tips her head back to follow the gesture. The smile that curves her mouth is a wondering one, warm, perhaps with gratitude. "Your home. Don't feel ashamed for not seeing it, it's much further than the moon and Venus -- Venus is so bright here that some call it the morning star -- but if you look closely," he indicates the area around the glimmering star with a wave of his hand, "you'll see it shines brighter than all those around it. In fact, after Venus," he looks back down at her and smiles, "it's the brightest star we can see on Earth."

Of course, Jupiter is a  _ planet _ , not a star. But such things are semantics to an astrologer like him; a divine object is a divine object, leave the classifications to astronomers.

"I see it." She lifts a hand herself, as though she could reach up to touch the distant planet.

He goes quiet for a second or two before he speaks again, in a bit of a whisper, almost conspiratorial.

"If it's not too much trouble, Princess," he asks, "can you tell me more of your homeworld? I don't mean to pry, and I'm sure it seems like a petty thing to ask, but you must understand that we of the Earth -- we've seen little of the Millennium beyond our borders." His blue eyes glimmer with curiosity. "I've never left this planet, myself. And I feel like I know so little."

Jupiter, too, is quiet for a little space, but soon enough she turns her eyes back earthward to the man standing next to her. "It's no trouble," she answers him, that smile still warm on her face. "Nor petty, either. You've done me a kindness; it's a small enough thing to ask in return. Where should I begin?" she wonders. "What would you like to know about?"

Nephrite's eyes widen, the spark of curiosity and excitement unconcealable.

"I confess don't know where to start," he says. "There's so much I'd like to learn about the other planets. Earth and its people are the only thing I've ever known, and I -- I can't fathom what life is like on the Moon, much less somewhere as far away as Jupiter. It seems almost beyond my understanding." 

He looks away from her, gazing off into the middle distance, consumed by his thoughts so thoroughly that he may as well be airing them aloud for all to hear.

"And then how long your people live...the idea of living for hundreds of years. Thousands. It's baffling to me. I can't imagine how that changes a culture, to not be afraid of death. Do artists care about their legacy if they know they will live to see it? Do Millennians war for resources and the safety of their families? Do lovers marry for eternity, or only for a little while --"

But he's babbling now, and even he realizes it. Nephrite cuts himself off with a sigh and a shake of his head, putting on a small, apologetic smile when he turns to look at Princess Jupiter again.

"That's...probably more than you'd like to answer, though. And hardly specific to your home. I'll think of something a bit simpler." He casts about in his head, tossing away the high-minded nonsense he always busies himself with. Of course, that nonsense consumes most of his thoughts, but he can come up with something normal. Something conversational. Something like: "What's the weather like on Jupiter? Or, I guess, whichever moon it is you come from...?"

The princess's eyes, which had stayed on him all while he spoke, suddenly light up with merriment, and she laughs.

It's possible he overcompensated on the simplicity. Damn.

"Well," she says, "Jupiter is a world of constant storms, you know. You can see them churning the atmosphere." Almost automatically she looks upward again, and despite the playful note in her voice, something nostalgic creeps in as well. "If we were on one of the moons of my world, you'd see a great red spot in the southern reaches of the planet, like a knot in the grain... a storm that never ceases, larger than this entire Earth. We call it the Dragon's Eye."

When she meets his eyes again, the teasing has evaporated, though she's still smiling. "But you already knew that no one can live on Jupiter itself," she says. "I was born in Io Castle, which hangs in orbit around the planet, so the 'weather' there is much like how things are on the White Moon. The greater moons are more exciting. Callisto is very cold, covered in ice that never thaws. Europa is often stormy, although not the same as the planet - Io even more so. There's no real settlement on Io, it wouldn't be safe, but I've visited the generator stations that help channel power to Io castle. The auroras are spectacular, they light up the whole sky in green and blue.

"I think you'd find Ganymede the most welcoming," she adds, after a moment's pause. "Its climate is the mildest, and the forests there are not so very different from what I've seen here on Earth, though older."

It may have only been a question about the weather, a small and insubstantial thing that he hasn't wondered about much at all, in truth; all the same, the moment Jupiter starts to answer him, Nephrite goes still, rapt with attention.

How strange, that one planet's moons could have so much life. The different parts of Earth have their own weather quirks, it's true -- but that an ice world could exist so close to a world of forests, two worlds of storms? That these are only the major moons of Jupiter, and that so many orbit her still, unmentioned, maybe not even inhabited except for a handful of hardy settlers?

His mind is on fire. The wonders of the Millennium are too great to name. Why, oh why must they all be holed up here, on a world so very small, so simple and mundane? What he wouldn't give for a single day out there, among the stars...

But he knows his heart remain on Earth all the while. And maybe that is what keeps him bound, more surely than the statutes of the White Moon, or his duty to the prince.

"It sounds beautiful," he says, unable to keep a touch of wonder out of his voice, though he tries desperately to remain professionally detached, as befits his rank. "I imagine the peoples of your moons must be very different from each other. Stars, even between our subjects here on Earth, there can be vast divisions of culture, and we're only some thousands of miles apart from each other. Nothing like the moons of Jupiter." He smiles, matching hers. "Though I'm certain you've bested us in both technology and magic. All of this...it must seem very primitive to you. I apologize. We've petitioned the Queen before to grant us some of the Millennians' knowledge, but for reasons we can't claim to know, she has declined."

He doesn't sound unhappy, per se, though it is impossible not to pick up on a touch of frustration in those final words of his.

"So we remain as we are. We have no senshi. Our cities stay beneath the stars. Our flowers wither and die." He reaches out to the fading rose again, this time bringing its faint grey tinge to her attention, instead of hiding it. "And whenever you're forced to come here, we must subject you to it as well. Until we figure what the Queen wants from us to enter into the Millennium proper, I'm afraid this is all we have." Nephrite goes quiet, then plucks the rose from its stem.

"A little sad, isn't it?"

Slowly, Jupiter's eyebrows lift. For a little while, she has no answer, and her gaze settles on the wilting rose in his hand.

"...I meant it before when I said you do your world too little credit," she says, eyes sliding away from him to look out across the garden again. "It's true that there are those in the Silver Millennium who think of the Earth as primitive. Many of them are the same people who'd like to think of themselves as gods over you. I'd hope that you wouldn't be so quick to follow along with their way of thinking."

She falls quiet again for a space, and this time when her face turns upward, her eyes seek out the silver glow of the moon in the night sky. "You must know this, as a scholar of the sky and the stars, but... the days and the nights here on your world are so much shorter than they are on the Moon. More than anything, I think that was the strangest to me when I first visited here. It's as though time itself moves faster here, passing in the blink of eye."

Her voice has grown quieter, words hanging softly in the fragrant air. "You wondered what it's like to live as long as we do," Jupiter murmurs, "but it's not as though we live forever. We age in time, and we can die. The flowers of Io Castle and the oaks of Ganymede are no more free from withering than the roses of Earth."

At last, her eyes come back to his again, solemn now. "I can't claim to know the Queen's mind myself," she admits. "I'm sure that from the perspective of Earth, it must seem interminable waiting for anything to happen in the Moon's pace. Just as, to our eyes, your world seems like a hasty one. But," a trace of a fond smile begins to tug up the corner of her mouth, "if your prince and our princess have their way, perhaps your wait will end sooner than you think."

Nephrite doesn't know why this always happens. He sets out to have a pleasant conversation -- a normal, light conversation, the kind he's expected to have, to put guests and dignitaries at ease -- and then out come his innermost thoughts, so heavy and high-minded, betraying how absurdly ruminative he is, how boring and self-obsessed. It's no wonder he can't do a thing at parties. If he opens his mouth for longer than two minutes, he'll read a treatise to the Venusian ambassador, or go on about the profound, inescapable nature of loneliness to the queen consort, or...or…

No. He wouldn't. It might seem so from where he is now, but he knows in his heart that he can hold his tongue when he needs to. It's only around some that he can't seem to hold back. Only a certain kind of person stirs him so, only a certain kind of person whose opinion matters to him in the first place.

He's silent for several moments, the ripples of that realization settling within him. What is it about this girl, whom he barely knows, that would draw this out of him?

But at the mention of Endymion, he lets that thought fade into the dark corners of his mind, where it can no longer trouble him. And the smile that tugs at his lips afterward is his widest, most genuine of the night.

He can't help it. The prince's happiness is infectious, and if his union has the added benefit of bringing them into the galaxy proper, then so much the better.

"I really hope it will," he says, a hint of a laugh in his voice, "for my sanity, if nothing else. All this covering for him and his sneaking about...I'm sure it's knocked years off my life already." She must be able to relate to that, at least; it's difficult enough hiding Endymion's indiscretions from the king, imagine how much harder it would be to hide from an all-knowing queen. That almost mischievous hint to his smile turns more wistful a second later, though, as his thoughts turn back to his prince.

"Still...as long as he's happy," he says. "I think you're right, Princess. Better days are coming for everyone in our kingdoms." Nephrite glances down to the flower in his hand, whose life he ended quite on a whim; the least he can do is make some good of it. Closing the distance between them with a step or two, he presents the rose to Princess Jupiter, along with the smile her words helped create.

"Here. A small piece of our garden to take back to the Moon. It may be wilting now, but I'm sure a bit of magic could keep it beautiful a while longer. We Shitennou owe you a debt of gratitude for protecting the source of our prince's happiness," he says. "And I owe you one, myself. For dealing with my gloomy musings this beautiful night."

The gift of the rose causes her brows to lift in surprise, and then those green eyes light up with delighted pleasure. 

"Not so very gloomy," she replies lightly as she reaches to accept and cradle the rose carefully between her hands, like a valuable and delicate treasure. "Thank you. For protecting the source of my princess's happiness, and for your generous gift as well."

When she lifts the flower to breathe in its perfume, she lets a little of her own power seep in to strengthen it, a glimmer of green light moving from her fingertips to the rose. "Perhaps I can persuade this flower to strike root, if it does not find the soil in my garden too objectionable."

As peculiar as it is, and as much as he knows that it isn't true, Nephrite can't blame his people for believing the Millennians to be gods. What is it that makes a god: limitless power, immortality, a home on high from which to judge those below? All the Lunarians and greater Millennians he's ever met fit that description more or less exactly. For a time, he may have held a similar belief himself; not that the Millennium was divine, of course, but that they were beings so far removed from the Earth's form of humanity that they could never exist side by side.

Then Endymion met Serenity -- and by association, he is standing here with Jupiter in the palace gardens, smiling and laughing, airing his thoughts as easily as he would to one of his brothers. And that image that he had in his head of the cold, unfeeling woman, so very unknowable and distant, starts to crumble piece by piece.

Jupiter has such a beautiful smile. So beautiful his eyes linger on it a moment to long, and only after a moment or two does he realize she's been speaking.

He blinks. Stars, how embarrassing. He must have misheard what she said just then...something about planting the rose he just picked? Impossible. The flower died as soon as he pulled it from its bush. There's no replanting a dead rose, the best she can hope for is to preserve it in a vase and hope it holds its color for as long as it can.

...at least, that is how it works on Earth.

"Forgive me, Princess," he says, a trace of hesitation in his voice. What if he  _ had _ misheard her, and this entire question is a misunderstanding? "I...do not know how plants on other planets work, but I'm afraid that rose is dead. It was rather thoughtless of me, I should have arranged to get you a potted flower for you to take back. I still can, if you prefer." He falls silent for a moment, his face growing far more thoughtful, as though something's occurred to him and he's retreating back into his mind to sort it all out.

"...unless," he says, half to himself, "the Millennians have magic to bring the dead back to life?"

"Ah?" Again Jupiter's brows lift, as she looks up from the rose in genuine puzzlement. "It's nothing like that. This flower isn't dead yet." Glancing down at the rose, she smiles the affectionate smile one might give an adorable puppy or a kitten. "It will die soon, if it's not cared for properly, but... didn't you know? Some plants can grow roots from cuttings with the proper handling. It has that kind of energy, so I thought I could try and see."

Still cradling the rose in both hands, she looks up to meet Nephrite's eyes again. "The power of Jupiter isn't only storms," she says. "I have a bit of a sense, I suppose you'd say. A small pot with some moist soil from your garden would certainly help, if it wouldn't be too much trouble - I'll need to keep the stem from drying out, and I'm sure it would find it easier to root in familiar ground."

Ah. That vague redness of a blush? Those blue eyes flitting from the rose to the ground? The tension in the muscles of his jaw? Congratulations, Princess Jupiter, you have seen a sight that few ever have.

Nephrite is embarrassed. Desperately so.

Imagine. A Jovian knowing more than he does about  _ Earth flowers _ . Stars, he's supposed to be  _ educated _ .

"O-Of course," he replies, still not meeting her eyes. "I'd heard that rose clippings could grow, but I didn't know -- what part, exactly. I thought it had to be from the base or the root, somehow. Not a flower on a stem." That much is true, at least. "Here I am, lecturing you about how things are on Earth, when you know more about this than I do." He smiles up at her. "Anyone here could tell you how arrogant I can be, at times. Forgive me. I do not mean to be so."

If she brings that rose to her nose again to hide an amused smile, she's kind enough not to make it obvious.

"I can have a gardener bring fresh soil to your room," Nephrite continues, maybe a little too quickly. "I can't promise how it might react when it leaves our atmosphere, but if the moon's climate is as controlled as they say, it might not be an issue. Besides, if you have power over plants, I trust you could make anything grow." His smile takes on a rueful tinge. "Would that my people had such a power."

No one is starving, here on Earth; the king and his prince make sure of it. To call their lot bountiful, however...

He clears his throat, steering his thoughts from their once again gloomy destination. There are other things he needs to know, and he wouldn't subject Jupiter to this nonsense again.

"It's not quite so easy as that," she admits after a moment, surprising him. "I can't truly  _ make  _ things grow. I can only ask, and I do not know if a flower grown from your world will answer. Still, your trees and your gardens have felt like friends to me since I first arrived here. I think perhaps this rose can be persuaded."

Interesting. Very interesting.

"I believe our gardeners here occasionally talk to the plants, actually," he muses. "I doubt the flowers here are conscious to hear it, but they swear by it all the same. Apparently it helps them grow stronger and more beautiful." He shrugs. He'd always dismissed the idea of it as placebo, but if a senshi is here expressing similar sentiments, there may be more merit in it than he thought. 

"I suppose there are stranger things in this world. The gardeners talk to plants. I read the stars. The princess of the Moon and the prince of the Earth fall in love, and it's our job to hide their happiness from both our kingdoms' prying eyes," Nephrite says. "Speaking of, when does your coalition plan to leave? We're prepared to host you for as long as you please, but I'd like to deliver the soil to you fresh, so the chances of your rose growing are as high as they can be."

With a quick flash of a wry smile, Jupiter answers, "I believe our 'plan' is to depart at moonrise tomorrow night. But you know how plans sometimes go. I have a feeling the Princess will beg to stay longer, if she can."

Of course she will.

Nephrite smiles at Jupiter, at the absurdity of their lives, the idea that the joy of love can be dangerous -- but that that same hidden love could change the world.

"You're right. I suspect your princess has her own plan about when you're leaving," he says. "Hopefully the king won't make us throw another blasted ball." After a moment's hesitation -- should he say this, it feels a trifle too familiar, but it is the truth and he'd like her to know -- he continues, "Though I suppose it is this very ball that allowed me to talk more with you. I doubt my night would have been nearly as stimulating without it."

Nephrite regrets being so forward even as the words leave his mouth, but then Jupiter laughs, and his heart stutters half a beat inside him.

"There, you see?" she says merrily. "These balls do have their uses, after all. Although I grant you it must be very tiresome to have to host them. Especially if you're not one who's very much for dancing?"

Nephrite would do well to steal a little of the princess's charm. So quick to smile, to laugh -- to see the bright side of even misfortune and confusion. Where does such inner strength come from? Have the Millennians discovered some secret to happiness that they on Earth have not?

Or does this all just come naturally to her?

Nephrite shifts from foot to foot, debating how best to answer.

"...if my friends are to be believed," he begins, "I am actually not hopeless with dance. There are much less enjoyable duties I have as a Shitennou of the Golden Kingdom." But he sighs, thinking of how much the vision of dancing in his head conflicts with the annoyingly imperfect reality. "If only there weren't so many people in the hall. And if only the dance was for dancing's sake, not for politicking or appearances. I think that is what most exhausts me, out of all of it."

"Yes." Jupiter nods, sympathy softening her expression. "Yes, I see. It's certainly unfortunate that those things are so hard to escape. I don't dislike balls, myself, but it's true that they'd be much more enjoyable if we didn't have to be forever conscious of the eyes of the court upon us."

Quieting for a moment, she looks around the quiet garden, washed in starlight and the faint strains of the music drifting out of the ballroom. 

There are no eyes on them here, no one to keep up appearances for. She must realize it. Nephrite certainly does.

With the utmost care, she tucks the rose he gave her in amongst the silk rosettes at the waist of her gown -- and then, as she looks up to meet his eyes again, she holds out her hand in invitation.

"In that case," she says with a smile, "I'm sure you'll think me very bold, but... would you do me the honor?"

Well...this is new.

There are certain expectations placed on him, growing up as a noble and Shitennou of Earth. It is not as though women are treated as lesser in the Golden Kingdom. Far from it: Endymion's mother rules jointly with his father, there are many royal advisors and governors of both sexes throughout their lands. Nephrite would certainly not have it otherwise; but, to him, it is still a strange thing to be asked for a dance by a lady, instead of doing the asking himself.

His eyes flit from the offered hand to Jupiter's face, as if there's some cue he's missing, or a way he's supposed to react to this invitation that he can't immediately see. Perhaps she has wanted him to ask her all along, and she is only bringing the matter to his attention now because he couldn't catch on? Perhaps there is a joke here at his expense?

\-- why would she joke or obfuscate, after she just spoke to him of honesty and the tiring charade of court?

Doesn't he want to dance with her, even more now that the chance has been offered?

_Stop thinking,_ _Nephrite,_ he says to himself, _and dance._

"Of course, your highness. The honor is all mine," he says, bringing her hand to his lips for a courtly kiss. Then, with eyes trained for any sign of displeasure or objection, he places his hand at her waist and pulls himself a bare inch or so closer. This is the way of the Earth, when it comes to dancing; intimate, graceful, face to face. Who can say how it is on the Moon, or on her homeworld, or anywhere else in the wide Millennium, but this is what he knows.

The expectant smile on Jupiter's face warms into pleasure at his acceptance, and her hand settles lightly into place on his shoulder.

"I've learned your waltz," she answers him, her face tipped upward toward his. "I'm still somewhat new at it, I confess, but I trust that I'll be able to follow your lead."

"I will do my best."

And so they dance, and dance, and dance. Under the silver light of the Moon, wreathed in the aroma of roses, far from the cares of the morning. It is lovely. Peaceful. Very nearly bliss, to be so contented and alone.

Nephrite prays, perhaps foolishly, that such a dance might never end.


End file.
